


days in the death

by Shoshanna



Category: Blake's 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1989-01-01
Updated: 1989-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoshanna/pseuds/Shoshanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would have died to save her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	days in the death

"Anna. Anna, wake up." The dark-haired man lay on his side and traced a finger lightly along the cheek of the woman asleep next to him. She stirred and murmured, her blonde hair brilliant in the sunshine that streamed in through the wide windows and glowed on her skin. "Come on, Anna." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, watching her. Raising himself on his elbow, he traced her cheek again and then, very lightly, brushed his thumb over her lips.

"Oh! Kerr, that tickles! You know that." Abruptly, Anna Grant sat up, pushing away both Avon's hand and the soft, wine-colored sheet that covered them. He shivered ostentatiously and pulled it back up. "Kerr, how can you be cold? Look at that sunlight!" She slid out of the bed and crossed the wide room to the windows, looking out over the other buildings and up to where the sun shone through the transparent peak of the London District Dome. "It's perfectly warm in here, and yet you're always cold in the mornings. Honestly."

Left in the bed, Avon moved into the warm space where her body had been, appreciating the way the muscles shifted at her waist as she moved across the room. "Anna, I didn't wake you so you could get out of bed. Come back." Casually, he stroked the sheet smooth over his thighs. She turned and came to him, laughing, and dropped onto the bed with a _whoosh!_ of pillows. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, tracing the smooth skin beside her ear and running his tongue lightly along her teeth. But she pulled away, leaving him craning after her. "Anna!"

"Kerr, look at the time! It's half eight, and I've got to get to the bank. They do the security backups at eleven, and if I haven't covered over last night's work by then, there'll be trouble." She touched the call signal by the head of the bed, and the servant's voice answered inquiringly. "Orange juice," she ordered, and Avon added "And breakfast for me!" before she cut the connection. She stood up again and went to the closet at the end of the room, pulled out a rose tunic and white tights, and sat down to work the leggings on. Avon shrugged into a thick robe the color of the sheets.

"So, what is it for this morning?" he asked.

"Hiding what you did last night. If I can get into the security system and fake a brief power surge around one AM, it will provide a perfectly good explanation for why the records of yesterday's transactions are garbled. They recover them from secondary backups, which, of course, you have already doctored, and we clear another quarter-million credits. But I have to get there before eleven to do it." Dressed, she stretched and pulled a comb through her hair, then tossed it to Avon who set about his own. "What are you doing today?"

"Not much, I shouldn't think. The teleport project's a complete loss, but the low-grade idiots running it won't accept the fact for a while. There was another messy failure yesterday, and they'll be blaming each other for all they're worth. I won't go in; it'll give them a chance to try to pin it all on me. They'll enjoy that."

"Shall we meet for lunch?" she asked from the bath, over the sound of running water.

"Yes," Avon decided. "At the Resort Park."

"Kerr!" Anna emerged to look at him, startled. "We can't afford that!" The Resort Park, on the very top level of the city where it could receive direct sunlight, was outrageously expensive even by Alpha standards. The food was good, the service impeccable, the scenery breathtaking, and the price sufficient to feed a Gamma family for a month.

"Why not?" Avon put his arms around Anna and kissed her throat. "Perhaps we can't now, but we shall be able to by noon, didn't you say? Think of it as a taste of what we're working for."

"We won't be able to afford it by noon," she said crossly. "You know perfectly well that even once we've diverted the money, we can't risk registering it in our own accounts until they wipe the short-term backups, and that won't be for six months. You should know; the whole thing is your plan." As she spoke, however, she was relaxing into his arms. He brushed the hair from her forehead, watching her, and finally she laughed, kissed him quickly on the nose, and said, "All right. But just this once!"

They both looked up as the door chimed gently, and the servant came in carrying a tray. He set it on the carved wooden table under the wide windows and laid out a pitcher of orange juice and a plate of eggs and bacon, steaming gently. His hands were steady and graceful as he poured two glasses full of juice. Avon nodded, satisfied, as the man bowed slightly and eased the door shut behind him.

Avon sat at the table, but Anna took a glass and walked to the window, sipping slowly as she gazed out over the rooftops. Several levels above, the Resort Park could just be seen from Avon's bedroom: nearly an acre of carefully sculpted grassy hills, with a few trees artfully placed, and even a small stream running into a tiny pond. When the cities had been domed over, late in the first century of the new calendar, the best of the outside world had been imported for the elite. After a moment, she finished her juice quickly and turned back to the table, refilling her glass and watching Avon top a bite of bacon with some egg yolk.

"How can you eat so much first thing in the morning?" she asked.

"Breakfast is one of life's great pleasures."

"Well, you can have it." Anna downed the last of her juice, set the glass down, and glanced at her watch. "Kerr, I've got to run. I'll meet you at the Park entrance at one, all right?" Without waiting for an answer she kissed him quickly and whisked out the door. Avon smiled after her and absently pushed his plate away.

Rising, he shed the robe and went to shower. When he emerged from the bath, his wet hair in tiny ringlets on his forehead, the table had been cleared and his robe was back in its place in the closet; the straightened bed bore black slacks and a grey shirt, neatly folded. He put on the slacks, but after a moment's thought exchanged the shirt for a black turtleneck under a sleeveless silver tunic that came to the tops of his thighs. Still barefoot, he left the bedroom and went down the hall to his study.

Though Anna liked the bedroom best, with its huge sunny windows and soft carpet, Avon was always most comfortable in his study. Well-lit and severely neat, one wall was filled with books, including a few extremely old paper volumes among the microfiche. Like every citizen of Alpha grade he owned a workstation terminal, with which he could conduct nearly any business he wished from his home; it occupied most of the desk in the center of the small room. Beside the terminal was the 'fiche reader, and the comm unit stood on an end table. Here he spent the most enjoyable part of his days, solving intricate problems for his employers as a contract troubleshooter, or, as recently, breaking security systems for his own lucrative ends. He smiled to himself and sat down, powering the terminal and identifying himself to his own complex security system.

Avon's workstation, though it had arrived in his home the standard model, was by now nothing of the sort. A genius at both programming and engineering, he had boosted its power, provided it with access to systems its designers had meant to be strictly insulated, and fitted it with extensive protection against the intrusions of others. Aside from the identity check, which ensured that only he could use the full capabilities of the device, he had also added a free-floating security program designed to ensure that in case he ever tripped an alarm in another system, the intrusion could not be traced to him. The end result was powerful and intricate, opening the possibility of secure access to almost any computer network he wished; it was also completely undetectable to anyone but another expert. Avon was very proud of his work.

He called up the records of the latest failure on the teleportation project. Instantaneous matter transmission was being pursued ferociously by Federation-funded teams of researchers, and Avon himself had been hired to coordinate the computer systems among the different groups. He was quite certain that the whole project would be abandoned soon; it had cost millions of credits and several lives, and they seemed no closer to a solution than they had been a year ago. Federation funding meant that the Federation dictated the direction of research, and leads were pursued on the basis of their political, rather than their scientific, significance. Avon grimaced. That was no way to run a research project. He had some ideas of his own, gleaned from a careful following of the various tests and the overview that his position gave him, and he began setting up a simulation. If, several years from now, he could announce his own solution to the problem... that would show them how things were done.

The terminal beeped, notifying him of a waiting message. It was from Val Tynus, one of the junior technicians on the least dismal of the research teams. Tynus knew of Avon's own researches and had offered a few good ideas in the past. Although he had been born into the Delta class, Tynus's unusual intelligence had shown in the routine tests and he had been given special schooling, eventually reaching his current position and probationary status as a Beta. Avon rather liked the man; he was quick to learn and respected Avon's own brilliance. Now he had left a message detailing the previous day's failure, including data omitted from the official reports. Of course, he didn't know that Avon had access to the raw data files. But Avon appreciated the thought, and sometimes Tynus's contributions had proven a real help. He quickly scanned the message and verified that it contained nothing he didn't know, then erased it and called up his own notes.

He worked for several hours, running simulation after simulation. Nothing was any more promising than the results of the official tests the day before, but he was confident that, given time, he would discover what they were all overlooking. Losing track of the passing of time, he started when the comm unit chimed to his side. He cleared his screen before he answered the call, but the face that appeared when he touched the 'accept' signal was Anna's. She looked worried, and before he could do more than say her name, she spoke hurriedly.

"Kerr, something's come up. I'm coming back; I'll be with you in twenty minutes. Don't do anything until I get there."

"Anna, what is it? Has something happened?" But she only shook her head and said, "I'll be there" before she cut the connection and the light of the screen faded slowly, the phosphor dot lingering in its center. Puzzled, he glanced at the tiny clock in the corner of his terminal screen; it was only ten minutes after eleven. Thoughtfully, he cleared away his work on the teleportation project, saving a few notes for later investigation and ensuring that no trace of his access to the records was left. Then he switched off the machine and left the study, closing the door firmly behind him.

In the sitting room, he called for tea before settling into a low couch and reviewing the status of the massive hoax he and Anna were staging. By carefully falsifying records in the Federation banking system, using Avon's genius and Anna's position as comptroller in one of the main branches, they were well on their way to diverting five million credits from its legal owners to their own hands. Bit by bit, shaving a few credits at a time off thousands of different accounts, collecting it together, they placed the money in anonymous holdings until the final security checks were cleared. Then, when all records of the money's origin had been erased, legitimately or otherwise, they would credit it to themselves. Finding a way through the bank's protections had been an enormously difficult task, and one which Avon had thoroughly enjoyed.

The servant came in, set a tray of tea and cakes on the mirror-smooth marble surface of a table, and murmured thanks as Avon dismissed him for the day. The door signal sounded only a few minutes after he had gone, but as Avon rose to let Anna in she used the key he had given her, coming in and shutting the door hastily behind her. She was pale and tense, but more controlled than she had been on the comm.

"Come and sit down. What's happened?" He led her to the couch and sat beside her; she glanced at the tray of food but shook her head when he began to reach for a cup.

"The security code's been changed. I can't get in."

"What? Are you sure?" The protective code on the bank's records was designed to change at random intervals, to prevent just the sort of thing he and Anna were attempting. But Avon knew that no computer-generated sequence could be truly random, and he had spent several days verifying that he had deciphered the program which determined it. Now he looked at her, surprised. "It isn't due to change for another twenty-seven hours!"

"Are you sure you calculated it correctly?"

"Absolutely. If I had made a mistake, we would have found it out long before now."

"Well, it has changed! I couldn't get in to fake the power surge, and they'll have made the backups by now!"

"We can still falsify the records. It will be more difficult, and dangerous, but I can do it. Come back to the study; I want to look into this changed security code. In any case, a little time with the bank's system and I can determine what it will have been changed to." He stood up and took her hand, raising her from the couch. A little color had come back into her face, and she smiled uncertainly. He pressed her hand in reassurance as they hurried down the corridor to the little room.

Avon went directly to the terminal, while she touched the wall panel to turn on the lights and brought another chair from where it stood against the wall. He ran quickly through his security system and issued a string of commands which would bring him through a 'back door' into the Federation bank records, bypassing the stringent checks on access. In a few seconds the screen filled with data. But when he tried the security code he had laboriously deciphered, which should have allowed access to recent transactions for another twenty-seven hours, he was met with a harsh tone and the words ENTRY REFUSED filling the screen. He sat back and looked at Anna, who nodded.

"That's as far as I got."

"Well, let's see if I can't get a little further." Exiting the bank's system, he called up his own heavily-protected records of his decryption of the security program. He spent twenty minutes in rapid, meticulous figuring, double-checking every step, while Anna watched from her seat beside him. She was nervous, her jaw tense; Avon was absorbed in his work and did not look at her. Finally he exhaled sharply and indicated a string of symbols on the screen.

"There. That will be the new code. Now all we need to do is to use it, change the records and the backups, and find out why the unscheduled code change at all." He leaned back in his chair and stretched, rubbing his cramped fingers. Anna moved behind him and massaged his shoulders briefly, working out the knots that had formed while he bent over the keys. He turned his head to the side and she brushed a hand across his cheek before sitting down again and looking at him expectantly. "It's not too late to get to the Resort Park," she said.

"For dinner, perhaps; not lunch. This will take time." But he was already reentering the bank's system, and carefully typed in the long code string. He smiled and had half turned to her, when the same harsh tone sounded and the refusal message spread across the screen.

"What!"

"Kerr, what's happened? Why didn't it work?"

"I don't know! Be quiet a moment. They must have changed the whole system. It's not programmed for that; I'm sure of it. That means this was done on human initiative. And they must have had a reason."

"Have they discovered us?"

"No, that's--" Avon broke off suddenly as a piercing note sounded from his terminal and the screen flashed several times, blanked, and informed them TRACE ATTEMPT DETECTED -- CONNECTION CUT.

"It backtracked me!" exclaimed Avon, stunned. "The bank system was never able to do that. That program has been installed within the last twelve hours, and very subtly, too. If it weren't for my own protections, it could have traced us right to this room!"

"They've discovered us!" Anna gripped his hand.

"Not us. They've discovered that someone has illicit access to the system, yes, and they're trying very hard to find out who. But they haven't, and they won't. We're still quite safe, Anna. I just have to find a way around the trace; it shouldn't take too long."

"How long?"

"It had better not take more than a day. With yesterday's records garbled without explanation, it won't be too long before someone notices the problem. And we _can_ be traced from those records." He leaned forward, typing rapidly. She peered over his shoulder, and he stopped for a moment, turned, and took her face in his hand.

"Anna, it will be all right. But I need to concentrate, and I can't do that with you here. Go and have some tea before it gets cold." He kissed her and gave her a gentle shove toward the door. As she turned away reluctantly, he was already bent over the keyboard again. But just as she pulled the door closed he cursed, and for the first time there was a real note of fear in his voice.

"Damn it! How could they have done that?" She hurried in again to find him staring at the screen, which again bore the warning of a trace attempt detected. His hands were clenched into fists. She put her hand on his shoulder; he hardly seemed to notice it. "The damn thing's lying in wait! It picked up where I lost it last time, and it got a good deal further." He swung around and stood up, jabbing a harsh finger at the terminal. "Anna, I don't dare try again. Once more and they really will know who we are."

"What can we do?" Her face was pale; she watched his hands, rigid at his sides. His eyes were hard and angry.

"Nothing. Anna, we're going to have to give up, quit while we're ahead. If we stop everything now, we can still clear almost a million. We can't hide the loss of the money, but if we're careful they won't trace it to us. I can still guarantee that."

She smiled shakily. "I'll settle for a share in a million, Kerr." He nodded quickly and sat down again. Intently concentrating, his mouth tight, he carefully set about extracting all traces of his entry from the bank's protected system.

Anna watched from behind his chair. Though he had sent her away before, now he hardly seemed to remember her presence. His head was bent over the terminal; the screen's pale light flickered on his face, keeping time with the rapid clicking of the keys that was the only sound in the small study. Tense and nervous, Avon nevertheless worked with precision, his lips tight, his fingers moving without hesitation except when he paused for a moment to consider. His eyes never left the screen.

Abruptly, the piercing tone they had heard earlier sounded again, and the warning of a detected trace flashed for a moment on the screen, replaced instantly by another message, in red flashing letters-- EVASION FAILED: TRACE SUCCESSFUL. Snatching his hands away, Avon stared, astounded. "My God!"

"What is it? Kerr, what happened?"

"It kept on! It kept tracing me even after I cut the connection--but that's not possible!" Whirling, angry and afraid, he slammed a hand down on the desk. "Anna, that can't be done!"

Anna flinched. "What does it mean?"

"They've tracked me. A few minutes, that's all, to connect my name and address with the ID of my system, and they'll be here. Anna, I'm caught. You must get out of here."

"I won't leave you!" She reached hesitantly up to touch his face; he blocked her and gripped her wrist tightly. She winced; he didn't notice.

"Don't be a fool, Anna. There's nothing you can do here, and you will come under enough suspicion as it is. I'll be all right. Get safely away, and I'll run, too. Once under cover somewhere, I can alter the records; make it appear that I've been framed by someone else. Or at least destroy enough so that the case will never hold. Anna--" She was crying, trying to twist free of his grasp and reach him. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, kissing her hair; her face was hidden in his chest, the bright silver tunic darkening with her tears.

"Anna, hush. Hush, love. It will only be for a little while, I promise. Everything will be all right. But you must get away from here. Go home and stay there. Will you do that?"

"No." Raising her head, she pulled away from a little, enough to look up and meet his eyes. "Kerr, I won't leave you. And you said yourself, I'm an obvious suspect. Our relationship, and my job; how long would it be before they arrested me? The security forces--" She shuddered. "They're very persistent, Kerr."

Avon had to admit that she was right; Anna would not remain free for long. He thought of interrogators trying to force her to lead them to him, and gritted his teeth. Even if she didn't know where he was, they would never believe it. He folded her into his arms again and squeezed, tightly, briefly. "All right. But we must move quickly. Security forces will be here any minute, and we don't want to greet them at the door." With a vicious swipe, he cut the power to his terminal; the flashing letters faded quietly into a red blur and were lost in the darkened screen as they ran from the room.

Avon headed for the bedroom and pulled a pair of boots out of the closet. Following him, Anna stopped uncertainly, and he directed her to the safe hidden in the wall above his bed. "Take all the cash that's there. And any jewelry you have here; bring that as well." He caught up his wallet and riffled quickly through it, discarding credit and identity papers but stuffing the money into a pocket.

"Where are we going?"

"To your flat, first. We've got to disappear for a while, Anna. I can get us out of this, still, but to do that I need access to high-level computer systems, and I can't get that as Kerr Avon anymore. We'll collect all the valuables we can, and bribe someone for access. But right now our first concern is to avoid the security forces. Come on."

He took her arm and they left the flat; Avon locked the door carefully behind them and flashed Anna a quick, vicious smile. "No sense in making it easy for them." There was a feral lilt to his voice. The two of them hurried down the corridor toward the public transit station which would take them to Anna's home.

Here in the upper levels of the city, the corridors were wide and well-lit, with colorful murals running along the walls. The floor was softly padded under their running feet. Almost completely closed in on itself, the city under the London Dome was a warren of passages and rooms. Occasional flats had, like Avon's, one or two actual windows to the outside; most made do with viewscreens or artwork. Living units in this area were large and well-spaced, and Avon and Anna passed only a few people in the corridor, who turned to watch curiously as the pair pelted into the transit station and scrambled into a waiting car.

The transit tube wormholed its way through the apartment complex, reaching the area where Anna lived in only a few minutes. But there was a security officer lounging in the corner of the corridor twenty meters from her door, and another strolling, deliberately casual, across the hallway a little way ahead. Anna gasped; Avon stifled a curse and moved quickly on, turning into a small side passage and breaking into a silent run as soon as they were out of sight. Anna was pulled along, stumbling as Avon increased his speed and caught her arm in a relentless grip. He circled back to the transit station and shoved her into a car, yanking the door shut and punching a destination at random on the control board; she crumpled into the seat and looked up at him fearfully.

"Kerr? They... they were waiting for us, weren't they?"

"Yes. They move faster than I would have thought. How like the Federation: efficient at the most inconvenient of times." Avon's tone was light, but his lips were white and his hands were clenching into fists; she looked at them and he followed her gaze and opened them deliberately to take her left hand in both of his. She shifted in the seat and he lowered himself to sit beside her.

"Anna, we'll have to go to ground." She tilted her head at him, puzzled. "Hide out, in the lower sections of the city. They're watching; we can't go anywhere they might think to look. Any of our friends, or your brother: they'll be under surveillance as well." Dropping her hand, he leaned forward and checked the destination display on the control board of the little car. With a few quick motions, he reset it, punching in new coordinates. "We're headed for quadrant B, twelfth level; that's as far as the transit tubes will take us. From there we take the public walkways further down."

"Further down? Kerr, where will we go?"

He brushed her fingers to his lips. "We'll find someplace to stay, rent a room somewhere. I only need a little time, Anna, and then we'll be out of this. Just time to find a way into the criminal records." He glanced at his watch; it was only a little before one.

The car came to a halt with a slight jerk, and Avon started violently before he caught himself; he had been far away, trying to think. Anna looked at him fearfully, her eyes wide, and he flashed her a quick smile that was not as reassuring as he meant it to be. "From here we walk. Come on."

He took her hand and they climbed out of the car. In the lower levels, away from the privileged Alpha areas, the corridors were narrower and less well lit, and Avon stepped fastidiously around scattered bits of trash in the walkway. There were more people passing than there had been above, people with faces hardened by work, wearing clothing that was often faded or patched. Anna shrank from the stares of several rough-looking men lounging in an open doorway, below a flickering sign which announced the dim room beyond as a bar. The sign crackled and buzzed, and a scratchy tape loop in the doorway, activated by their passing, called out "Drinks here!" Whatever enticement followed was drowned by the murmurs of the laborers as they eyed Anna's brief tunic. Avon shot them a glare and hurried past, gripping her hand painfully.

"Kerr, where are we going?"

"I don't know. There must be a place to rent a room nearby, someplace where they won't ask questions." But the narrow, twisting corridors confused them both; tiny shops were wedged into the most unlikely places, sometimes straddling the public walkway, which was then diverted through rooms intended by their designers as flats. It was a warren that only those who grew up in could navigate, and finally Avon had to admit defeat and approach one of the loungers they saw at every open area for help. The man eyed the two Alphas suspiciously; their clothes alone made it plain that they did not belong. They had to explain twice that they wanted to rent a room before the man would speak, and it was only after Avon had shown more cash than he wanted to that he grudgingly allowed that he might know a place. They followed him through the maze to a shabby sign reading "Rooms to Let" beside a battered but sturdy door; here their guide barred their way and would not let Avon through until he had been paid for his help. The money handed over, he turned on his heel and slipped between two black-market vendors, vanishing from sight.

Left standing before the door, they looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, then Avon rapped sharply. It opened quickly to reveal an old woman, who eyed them suspiciously until Avon had offered what she considered enough money. Then she pulled them inside and hustled them to a dismal room, lit only by a cracked light panel in the ceiling. Having extracted payment in advance, she left them sitting on the sagging bed that was the only furniture provided.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Avon's lips were tight, and Anna clasped her fingers together over his hand. "What will we do?" she asked fearfully, and shifted fastidiously on the oily silver bedcover. "We can't stay here, Kerr; where can we go?"

Avon stared out at the stained wall, feeling trapped and furious. Ten minutes, just ten minutes with his own system or two hours with a standard terminal, and he could sidetrack the security forces, divert them somewhere else and leave him and Anna in perfect safety. Anna shook his arm and asked again, desperately, "Kerr, where can we go?"

"I don't know, Anna. Hush a moment." He got up and paced across the room. "I need access to a terminal, and there won't be any this far down, not with the power I need."

"Isn't there someone who could help? A friend, someone you could call?"

Avon took another step and then pulled up. "Tynus."

"Who? The technician?"

"Yes." Avon grinned viciously. "Tynus has been giving me inside information on the teleport project. Oh, nothing very much, but he can't afford to have it known. One wrong step and that jumped-up Delta is back down here for good. He'll help me." He went to the shut door, tested the latch. "I'm going out to find a comm booth and call him. You wait here."

She came up behind him, put her hand on his shoulder. "No, Kerr. I want to stay with you."

He spun and grasped her wrist, anger and fear on his face. "Anna, it's not safe! There could be security guards anywhere!"

"Not here, surely! They don't patrol the lower levels much, do they? Not the back ways. And they won't be expecting us down here."

"I don't care." He pushed her back toward the bed. "I want you here, where it's safe. I'll be back soon." He watched as she slowly went to the bed and huddled in its center, small and afraid. Fighting the urge to go to her, to cover her with his arms and shut out the world, he turned and left the room.

Avon pushed through the maze of passages, his movements edged with nervousness. These were so unlike the wide, smooth corridors he knew, and they twisted so much that for one sick moment he thought he had lost his way. The first comm booth he found had been vandalized, and a group of youths in garish patched jackets stared and muttered as he went by.

He finally found another, and pulled the door shut behind him before feeding a crumpled bill into the slot. Punching Tynus's code, he put his palm over the scratched camera lens as the other man's ruddy face appeared on the grainy screen. "Tynus," he said harshly before the technician, puzzled by his own dark screen, could speak.

"Who is it?" Tynus peered forward, uncertain. "The camera's broken; who's there?"

"Avon."

"Avon! Good God, man, where are you?" Tynus leaned forward.

"Does it matter? I want your help."

Tynus glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice fearfully. "Where are you? Don't you know they're looking for you?"

"_Yes,_ I know," spat Avon. "And you're going to help me elude them." He took his hand off the camera lens and Tynus's eyes widened as he saw Avon's face.

"I can't do that, Avon! They're searching everywhere for you; they said you stole thousands of credits! There's bulletins on all the channels!" He licked his lips nervously. "Avon, you know I like you. Respect you. But I've got my own position to think of. I won't tell them you called me, but I don't want to hear from you again. Don't ask me to help you."

"Oh, I'm not asking." Avon lowered his voice, to croon dangerously into the microphone grille. "You will help me, Tynus. Because you have your position to think of. Just imagine what I might say, under interrogation." He leaned forward. "Imagine it. Don't you like life as a Beta?"

He sat back as sweat broke out on Tynus's suddenly pale cheeks. "I need access to an Alpha-grade terminal," he added in a normal voice. "I need it secure, and I need it soon. Get me into the lab facilities, Tynus. Before they catch me, and," he skinned his lips back from his teeth, "it's too late."

"I can't do that!" pled Tynus desperately. "They're watching everywhere! A squad of troopers showed up at the lab and threw us all out--I think they're waiting in case you go back there. And I haven't got the kind of access you need, you know that!"

Avon gritted his teeth. He had to wipe those records. It was the only way back to safety for him and Anna. The money was gone, he accepted that now, but the dogs were snapping at their heels, and they had to be dealt with. Quickly. He raised a hand in a gesture that Tynus's flickering image flinched from. "Then find it, Tynus. Use your--" he grimaced--"connections. Your family. Don't imagine I don't know what you come from." The Delta and Epsilon classes were riddled with illegal operations and black marketeers. Avon had researched Tynus's background as a matter of course, when the man first began working with him. It had been very interesting, in a morbid fashion.

"Avon, I can't!" Tynus's voice broke in a frantic whisper. "It--it takes time to arrange something like that. It's dangerous!"

"So am I," said Avon, lacing his fingers together.

"Avon, there's no way I can get you the kind of access you want. Not in time. But--" He broke off and licked his lips nervously. "Look, maybe I can get you out of the city. An exit visa, identity papers. They won't look for you in the Paris Dome, or even Cross-Channel." Avon lifted an eyebrow sharply, and Tynus flinched. "I'm sorry, Avon, but it's the best I can do."

Avon scowled at him, trying to give himself time to think. He felt lost, trapped on a transit car spinning wildly out of control, further and further down into darkness. To flee the Dome, hide in a new identity in a new city... he thought of the indirect light bathing his study, and the wide windows facing his bed, that Anna loved so much.

Anna. She couldn't stay here, in that filthy room with the leering old woman. Whatever happened, he had to get her to safety. And if this was the only way, then he would take it. "All right. But I want two sets of papers. One for me, one for a woman. Today."

Tynus's eyes widened. "A woman? All right. What does she look like?"

Avon gave him a quick description, close enough that the papers would do. Tynus nodded. "But Avon, it won't be today. For a hundred credits each, I can get them to you tomorrow morning, about ten." Avon raised a hand sharply, and Tynus insisted, "That's the soonest they can be made, Avon. It isn't easy to get papers, you know. It's tricky."

"Yes, I can imagine that yours is delicate work," Avon snapped. "How will I get them?"

"I'll send someone to the market on level seventeen, B quadrant. Be there at ten tomorrow, with the money; he'll find you."

"He had better. The alternative would be very unpleasant, Tynus. For both of us." Avon slapped the switch that cut the connection and left the booth.

He cut through the market on his way back to the rooming house, trying to study its layout. The crowding people and pervasive smells of sweat and rancid food dizzied him, used as he was to quiet and calm. He put his wallet in his front pocket and held it in his hand as he moved among the shouting vendors and gangs of children.

Food. If they were to be here almost twenty more hours, they would need to eat something. He began to scan the shops and booths, looking for one at least passably clean. The food was uniformly disgusting, sludgy soups and lumps of processed vegetable protein, and he thought briefly of the tea and cakes presumably still sitting, cold and untouched, in his sitting room. Unless the security forces had broken in. No doubt they had.

Finally he located a baker's shop with bread that seemed untainted, and was certainly fresh; he could see the ovens in the back. He bought two small loaves, and a slab of grayish cheese from a basket carried by a piping, insistent child. He was careful to remove from his pocket only as much cash as he needed. His obvious higher grade was garnering him enough attention already; if he began flashing wealth he suspected he might not survive the first relatively empty corridor he entered.

He turned to leave the market and found himself facing a weapons dealer. Weapons were strictly controlled by the Federation, especially among the lower grades, and the black market flourished in proportion. Cruel-looking knives, barbed for maximum injury, and heavy black handguns showed under a transparent protective sheet. The seller saw him stare and shoved her cart toward him.

"Hey, guv'nor! Show you something?" She slid her hand under the cover to caress a blade with her thumb.

Avon watched her handle the weapons, fascinated and a little sickened. He had taken a course in marksmanship once, but the slim, elegant needleguns the instructor had distributed were wholly unlike these blunt death-dealers. The knives he ignored; he knew he didn't have the skill to use them. But no doubt it would be safer to be armed, in this rats' warren. When he left the market, he carried a pistol shoved into the top of his pants, under the hem of his tunic, and a handful of the soft pellets it fired weighed down his pocket. The muzzle of the gun poked his leg, reminding him of its deadly presence with each step.

He returned to the rooming house, meeting the old woman's scowl with one of his own. Anna flung herself into his arms, crying with relief, as he entered the room. "Kerr, you were gone so long, what happened? Where were you?"

He held her tightly and kissed her hair. "It's all right, Anna. I've found us a way out."

She drew back to look at him questioningly. "You can get into the records? Oh, thank God. How?"

He lifted her arms from his neck to take her hands in his. "No, Anna. I'm sorry." Puzzlement and fear filled her face, and he forced himself to meet her eyes. He hadn't failed her, he could still keep her safe. "I can get us out of the city. To another dome, or even the open lands. New names, new identities; we'll be safe there." Quickly, he told her of Tynus's offer. She sat on the bed to listen as he spoke, and when he had finished explaining he came and sat beside her. Lifted one hand to brush it through her hair.

She smiled shakily and turned to face him. "All right, Kerr. We'll be fine. As long as we're together-- I don't care where."

They spent the rest of the day in the cramped room, talking sometimes with intensity, sometimes with brittle casualness. When the lights dimmed as the city's generators slowed for the evening, they divided the bread and cheese and made a crude meal, though neither had much appetite. Setting Avon's watch to wake them in the morning, they finally crawled under the slippery sheet, holding each other tightly in the dimness.

Avon woke early, tense and restless. Anna slept on his shoulder, lips slightly open as she breathed. He kissed her awake, feeling a desperate desire building. "Anna, Anna..."

They made love, clinging together in the strange bed. Anna murmured into his throat, but he was silent, intense and driven. Afterward he stood up and began to dress, grimacing at putting on yesterday's clothes. Anna raised herself on an elbow to watch.

"This man you're buying the exit visas from. Do you trust him?"

"Of course not." He picked up the gun significantly, loaded it and shoved it back into his waistband. "Trust is only dangerous when you have to rely on it," he added, and pulled his tunic down to cover the telltale bulge. Anna's eyes widened.

"Do you trust anyone?" she asked, and then teasingly, "Do you trust me?"

Avon tried to smile, but his breath caught. "Oh, yes," he managed. "I'm afraid I do." He went to the door, then turned back for one look at her, nestled in the bed. The silver sheet reflected the color of her skin. "I'll be back soon. With the visas."

"I'll be waiting, Kerr."

He reached the market and wandered aimlessly through it, making himself visible. Sooner than he had expected, a hand caught at his sleeve, and a voice rasped, "You Tynus's friend?"

He tried to shake himself free. "Yes. I take it you are the man who was to meet me?"

"Yeah. C'mere." The voice turned out to belong to a tall, stoop-shouldered man with lank reddish hair, who pulled him out of the market area into the doorway of an empty room. "Papers, right? You and your girlfriend? Got 'em right here."

Avon pulled his arm away and moved across the room. "Then give them to me."

"Not so fast." The man smiled slowly, showing a mouthful of rotted teeth. "I watch the viscasts, y'know. You're a wanted man, Avon. Very wanted."

"Evidently, or I would not need the exit visas. Now give them to me." Avon moved forward in a threatening gesture that went utterly to waste.

"Oho. Now, Tynus said you'd pay me well for these...but not so well as the Feds'd pay me for you. A thousand credits for you, Avon--and seven hundred for your girlfriend."

"I'm sure I'm flattered. What do you expect me to do about it?" Avon snapped.

The other man's smile abruptly vanished. "Top their offer. Or I'll turn you in right now. It won't take long to find the woman."

Avon froze, horrified. The dealer watched him coldly, a hand hidden in his jacket. Avon knew what that meant.

He took a deep breath. "All right. But I haven't got that much on me. I'll have to fetch it."

"No deal. Front it now, last chance."

"All right," he said again. "It's in my wallet." He moved one hand up under his tunic, feeling for the butt of his gun. But his grip was awkward, and as he fumbled it free the dealer's hand flashed out and agony exploded with a roar in his left shoulder. The shot flung him against the far wall, and dimly through the blood-streaked haze he realized that he had managed to keep his grasp on the gun. As the dealer bent over him he rolled and fired, hardly knowing where he aimed.

The shot took out most of the man's throat, spraying horrifying amounts of blood. He collapsed, and Avon struggled to his knees, sickened. His shoulder rang with pain, and blood ran over his arm and hand. He wondered if the bones were shattered; he couldn't seem to move his fingers.

Anna. He had to get back to Anna, get her away... But they needed the visas. Numbly he thrust his good hand into the corpse's pockets, feeling for papers. Finding them, he wedged them awkwardly in his belt, staining them with blood in the process. He was growing dizzy, his left side lost in a red mist. He fumbled for his gun, and it skittered from his hand across the slippery floor.

Never mind. He had to get back to Anna. Half-blind, he stumbled through the door, hardly registering the sudden emptiness of the hallway. Head spinning, he managed barely fifty meters before he fell, swayed on his knees for a moment and then crumpled in a spreading pool of blood.

Avon woke screaming, to a blazing ripping agony in his arm. He struggled and fought against the hands pinning him, until a firm pressure began to blot the pain and the blurs over his head slowly resolved into faces looking down. Three, two men and a woman. Another man moved into view from where he had, Avon realized, been changing a bandage on his shoulder.

"Where--" His throat hurt; he tried again. "Where am I?"

No longer needed, the original faces turned uninterestedly away. The bandager--a medic?--sat beside the pallet Avon lay on.

"You're safe. My name's Devra. Kenik--" a nod toward one of the other men--"found you in the hallway, unconscious. You were badly hurt."

"Shot," Avon whispered. Of course the medic would know that already. "How long..."

"Were you unconscious?" the man finished. "About thirty hours since we found you. You couldn't have been there long, you'd have died of blood loss."

Thirty hours? Horrified, he tried to sit up, but his vision blurred gray and Devra's hands pushed him firmly down again. "Lie still. You're very weak, and I'm no doctor. You're lucky to be alive, Avon."

Not a medic, then. Then Avon started, realizing what the man had said.

"Yes, we know who you are. Kenik went through your wallet, and besides," Devra smiled humourlessly, "your face is fairly well known, just now." One hand indicated the display terminal on the other side of the room.

Avon closed his eyes. "What will you do with me?"

"Not turn you in." Avon found his head being raised, and a glass of water at his lips. He swallowed thankfully. "There's enough cash in your wallet to keep Kenik's family happy; he's not a greedy man. As for me--" Devra's voice took on a strange tone. "I've had enough trouble of my own of that sort not to wish it on anyone else."

There was something odd about that, and about the way Devra said it. Avon tried to work out what it was, but slipped into unconsciousness again.

When he woke again, Kenik was eyeing him. "Awake, are you?"

His voice worked better, this time. "Yes. Thank you."

Kenik snorted. "Thank Devra. He's the one took care of you."

The man's harsh voice triggered something in Avon's mind. Devra had not spoken like that, with that rough accent. "He's not-- not one of you?"

"Him? Naw. He's a Beta, got in some political trouble. Hiding down here, like you."

Hiding. Anna. "Anna!" he gasped, and struggled to a sitting position. "I've got to get out of here!"

"Now hold on." Kenik's voice was not unkind, but the hand on his unwounded shoulder was forceful. "You're badly hurt, and you're not going anywhere. We don't want the security patrols tracing you back here when they grab you."

"I've got to get to her." Avon gritted his teeth against the pain welling up.

"You're not leaving, not until we know you won't be back. And anyway-- it's Anna Grant, right? They got her this morning, in the market. She's in custody now."

The blood drained from Avon's face. His hands began to shake. "No..." Anna, his Anna, in custody? Taken, arrested, without him, alone in their hands? He had said he'd keep her safe, promised her! Suddenly he was fighting, clawing against Kenik, trying to force his way up to get to her, to reach her, only dimly aware of the blood bursting through his bandage. Kenik cried out for Devra, and something hissed against his skin, and he fainted again.

The third time he woke, it was Devra beside him again. The brown eyes watched him with concern, and Avon turned his face away, sickened. The display terminal flickered in the corner.

Devra's voice was gentle. "How are you feeling?" Avon did not answer.

Arms lifted him up and offered him a drink again, some kind of broth. "You must keep up your strength," he said, and Avon swallowed resignedly. Devra propped him into a sitting position.

"Kenik will let you stay until you're well enough to leave," he said. "He and his family have no use for the exit visas, you can keep them. He'll take the money, though. Room and board."

Avon did not look at him, but his voice was level and cold. "I will not leave without Anna."

"Don't be a fool, man! They're not about to release her. Do you imagine you can get in there and break her out?"

"Possibly." Between his teeth.

Devra paced a step away and swung to face him. "Don't try it, Avon. You haven't a chance. I know, believe me. And look at the shape you're in--and do you know the price on your head has doubled?" He stabbed a finger toward the display screen and its perpetual muttering of news and propaganda.

"I am not leaving this city without Anna."

"That's as may be," Kenik broke in, "but you're not leaving this flat 'til you leave for good. We'll take you to an exit, when you're healed, but you'll not lead any of them back here."

Avon looked from one to the other. Devra met his eyes with concern, but Kenik thrust his chin up stubbornly. Avon stared him down. "I am not leaving," he said, "without her."

"Then you're not leaving at all." And Kenik stomped away.

After that, Kenik and his family ignored Avon for the most part, passing through with little regard for his presence on their floor. Devra came and went, and when he was in the flat cared for Avon competently and impersonally. From time to time the Beta would offer him food, which he ate. He suffered the daily changing of the bandage, and the humiliation of being helped to the toilet, in silence.

Avon dreamed, one night, that Anna was in his arms. Crying with joy, he hugged her to his chest, gasping out apologies and love, kissing her wildly, until he began to realize that she wasn't responding, that her arms lay limply on the floor. Frightened, he raised his head to look at her, and she stared fishily beyond. He called her name, cried out for her to answer him, but her head lolled back and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Shaking the cold flesh, pleading with her; she only ignored him to gaze into space, aloof, distant, uncaring... He woke trembling in the dark, whispering "I'm sorry, Anna, I'm sorry," and ground his shoulder against the worn pallet until the blazing pain blotted out everything.

It was a few days later that Kenik came home to find Avon staring at the screen of the display terminal.

"She killed herself." Avon looked up at him, and his eyes were hollow and fragile. "I never came for her, and she hung herself."

"What?" Kenik bent to look at the screen shedding a wet, cold light on Avon's dark hair. "Don't be naive, Alpha. They always say that when someone dies in custody. Likely her heart stopped during interrogation."

Slowly, Avon drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, huddled, shaking. "They tortured her to death." His voice was thin.

"About the size of it."

The dark head dropped, hiding his face. Kerr Avon cried, silently, and then not so silently, for a long time.


End file.
